The Recruiter
by Channel D
Summary: When frustrated with his co-workers, Tim meets with Fornell and finds a way out. Is this the best solution? Written for the NFA Weekly Writing Game. Non-slash. Oneshot.


**The Recruiter  
**by channelD

_rated:_ K  
_written:_ for the _NFA Weekly Word Game #3_; prompt: _Promise_  
_pairing_: Tim McGee, Tobias Fornell (non-slash)  
_genre_: drama  
_words_: approx. 2600

- - - - -

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

_"Hold the elevator!"_

By reflex, Tim threw an arm out to prevent the docile doors from closing, without considering who was asking him to do so. It was just one of those things a civilized person does.

"Thanks, McGee," said FBI agent Tobias Fornell, trotting in with a smile. He absently fingered his NCIS visitor's badge, about to yank it off, then thinking better of it as he wasn't at the exit yet. "You're a good doobie."

Tim smiled politely, wondering at yet another curious expression from the older generation. His mind really wasn't in it, though. This had become yet another trying day; one in a series of many, lately. Tony pecked at him with countless little digs. Ziva wasn't above swooping in, sometimes, like a hawk. Gibbs found fault with everything he did. Escape at lunchtime was now the highlight of his workday.

"Going to lunch?" Fornell asked, as if he'd peeked inside Tim's mind.

"Just because it's noon, and I'm wearing my coat?" Tim smiled a little more.

"Well, that's why they pay me to be an investigator," Fornell grinned. He handed his visitor's badge to the guard at the front entrance, and signed out in the log. "So, where are you going?"

"Eh, probably just the food court over at building 21." As he had every day for nearly two weeks; the endless crawl before _Sbarro_, _Au Bon Pain_, and _Coyote Jacks_. There'd been a time, back when he was an underpaid rookie and before selling his first book, when he'd brought his lunch to work every day. Now, eating out was an expense he didn't even notice. Still, in the last few weeks, he hadn't felt like eating with any of his co-workers, and the urge to leave the NCIS building was all-powerful now at lunchtime.

"You need to get out more, kid. Have you tried the new Italian place at the corner of M and 8th? Really, really nice. They respect the lunch crowd, and'll get you in and out fast with their express lunch menu. Want to join me?"

Tim hesitated. It only then took Fornell to say, "It'll do you good to get out of the Yard," before Tim nodded and went with the older man.

- - - - -

The restaurant was dimly lit, but hurricane lamps on tables blazed cheerfully and delightful smells arose at every turn. Shortly after they'd been seated at a booth and were still looking over the menu, Tim was startled by a cry of "Tobias! You old so-and-so! Scoot over and let me join you."

"Ah, Lou; trying to horn in on my lunch date?" Fornell said, and winked at Tim. "McGee, this is Lou Greco of my bureau. Lou, Tim McGee of NCIS."

"A pleasure, Tim," said Greco, reaching over the table to shake his hand. "I've heard a lot about you. Good things."

"Really?" Tim was surprised, though whether about _I've heard a lot_ or _Good things_, he couldn't have said. Greco was middle-aged and a little thick about the belt. _A little run-down to be a special agent._ Thinking quickly, though, Tim realized that it was probably no coincidence that brought Greco here at this particular time. _What is Fornell up to?_

"The Italian wedding soup is really good, by the way." Greco said, after giving the menu only a glance. "Tim, we at the FBI are always on the lookout for good men and women, Tobias put your name in. We were wondering if you might like to come to work for us."

Tim nearly dropped his water glass. "Work? At the FBI??"

"Yes. I'm in the Human Resources department. The FBI has a budget, finally, and we're hiring. We have some excellent positions, Tim. You can have a position similar to what you have at NCIS. Or maybe you'd like more computer time and less field time. We can arrange for that. And…for someone of your experience and caliber, we have a $20,000 signing bonus and a step increase from whatever you have at NCIS. And we offer great promotion potential. You could be heading your own team in as little as two years. And I have no doubt you would be. You show great promise."

The waiter came by for their orders. Tim used the time to try to still his galloping heart. _A new job! A new start! This could be just what I need!_ He was so excited and tuned out that the waiter had to politely cough to get his attention. His brain loose in his head, Tim only pointed to where his finger happened to be resting on the menu, with no idea of what it was. Greco threw in an order of the wedding soup for him, and Tim was glad that he had.

"So," Tim wheezed, and then started again. "So, when would I start? If I took the job."

"Well, soon. But let me say upfront, Tim, that this isn't a firm job offer. Not today. Rather than subject you to tedious and expensive background checks and psych exams, as we'd do for a new hire off the street, instead we want to just…_talk_ with you a little more." Seeing Tim's dejected look, he quickly pressed on.

"All procedural, and it rarely washes anyone out. What it boils down to is, Tobias will meet with you over lunch or another time of your choosing, once or twice a week over the next four weeks. Get to know you a little better, and assess you. Like I said, it rarely washes anyone out. And we wouldn't be giving you this semi-firm job offer if we didn't think you weren't right for the job. So, are you interested?"

"Yes!" Tim said, half-bouncing and startling the waiter with his soup. "Yes, I think I am!"

- - - - -

Tim made it back to NCIS only a minute late. This could be an opening for Gibbs to hammer on him if he wanted to, but Tim felt it wouldn't bother him all that much if Gibbs did. _At last I have a ticket out of here…if I decide to use it!_ He sat down and got right back to work, ignoring the others. _I don't care what they think anymore. I don't have to care._ Life was suddenly looking _very_ good.

Over the next week, he found it increasingly easy to pretend that Tony and Ziva weren't there at all. He could block out Gibbs as well, though this took a little more fine tuning; occasionally Gibbs did say something that Tim needed to hear, or needed to respond to.

All too soon it was time for another lunch meeting with Fornell. Fornell once again managed to have business at NCIS, just before lunch. This time they went to a recently-opened Himalayan fusion place that Fornell had already been to. _It's been open for two months? __And only a block up 8th Street?_ Tim shook his head at how oblivious he'd become to the world outside the Navy Yard. That had to change.

They chatted about next to nothing…the anticipation of the Washington Nationals playing in their new stadium just off the Yard; the weather; red tape of many forms. Tim kept expecting Fornell to slip in questions about his background, such as his family, or about how he got along with his co-workers, but those questions never came. They were like two old friends. With a handshake and a smile, Fornell bid him good day and said he looked forward to next week's meeting.

- - - - -

A particularly tough murder case kept Tim and his team busy for the next several days. Tim neither minded nor was particularly enthused; he knew he was just marking time now. He made no effort to go see Abby in her lab, and it did bother him a bit that he felt that way. _Well, that relationship was going nowhere, anyway._ Likewise he avoided Ducky; fearing that if he thought much about the kindly old man, his resolve would break and he'd tell Fornell to forget it.

His own car in the shop for maintenance one day, Tim had been forced to take a ride with Tony to the crime scene the day before his next meeting with Fornell. Tony was going on and on about something inane. Tim had no idea what Tony was saying, and didn't care to know. He either stared straight ahead or turned his head to the side window, contemplating his future with a better-well-known agency.

For his part, Tony had tried talking about movies, and then even ventured into small talk about Tim's family. He got no response from Tim on either subject, so eventually he gave up and silence fell in the car.

- - - - -

When Fornell arrived at NCIS the next morning (Tim had finally learned, through a little snooping, that the FBI, the NSA and NCIS had been meeting at NCIS to discuss a united front against the CIA's plan to stall an appropriations bill in Congress), Tim's eyes shot up immediately and he could hardly restrain himself from smiling. Fornell, though, seemed to take no notice of him.

But Gibbs did. Feeling watched, Tim turned his head to see Gibbs staring at him, staring with the same piercing look he used on subjects in Interrogation. Gibbs didn't say anything, but instead appeared to be trying to read him.

This surprised Tim a bit…he'd always felt he was transparent. _I'd better tell them I'm leaving. And I will. __Soon._ His face a traitorous (now why did that expression come to mind?) pink, he turned away from his boss' stare and worked with a vengeance until lunchtime came.

Gibbs caught up with Fornell first, outside the Director's office. "Tobias."

"Jethro. How's life treating you, buddy?"

Arching an eyebrow, Gibbs replied, "You're trolling, Tobias. I don't like it when someone tries to snarf my people."

"He can make his own decisions, Jethro. I only place an offer in front of him. He can judge where the better deal is…where he'll be happiest." A cheerful smile still in place, Fornell took the elevator down to the first floor, where Tim waited.

- - - - -

This week's lunch spot was a steak house. Fornell insisted on picking up the tab, as he had the last two times. "The bureau will pay for it. Don't fret." He looked at Tim kindly; almost like an uncle. "You look unhappy, Tim. Something wrong?"

Tim didn't answer for a minute. Gibbs' look had bothered him. He wasn't exactly sure why. A week ago he would have dismissed the feeling, rationalizing that he'd soon be away from NCIS, and he'd never look back. The look, though, seemed to have a hold on him today. "It's nothing," he said to Fornell, and when Fornell then smiled and steered the talk to a TV show they both liked, Tim went along willingly.

- - - - -

Ziva stood over his desk the next day, silently. Tim knew she was there, but chose not to acknowledge her. _Why bothe__r? Soon I'll never have to be teased by her again._ But she was stubborn and would not leave. Finally he looked up and met her eyes. "You want something?"

"I want to know what you are hiding," she said. "Why you have changed."

"I haven't changed."

"You are a different person. You have changed your outlook; your priorities here. Your teammates are the farthest thing from your mind. I no longer feel confident with you on a field mission. I do not feel I can trust you to, ah, 'have my six'."

That hurt. Tim had felt he was still doing well in the field; he was just dispassionate. Perhaps he had come off as clinical; cold. That didn't mean he wasn't effective. "I—I, um…" _Crap. I should be beyond stammering. _"I don't think you should feel that way. I can still do the job."

"So it is me, then, and Tony, who you no longer care about?" Her dark eyes flashed.

Tim turned a bit away, annoyed. Surely he'd get a better set of coworkers at the FBI. He could see Tony not-so-subtly listening to the exchange, his face stony. "All right. I'll level with you. My mind has been elsewhere. I've been offered a job with the FBI, and I'm considering taking it."

Tony rose, looking tense. "How close are you to saying 'yes'?"

"Very. I should make a decision in about a week, I think."

The shocked look on his teammates' faces would have been funny if the situation were different. Instead of laughing, Tim strangely felt pained…pained that his words, emotionless as they were, could have caused that reaction.

"Well…well, that's very good for you, McGee," Tony said, looking down.

"Yes, uh…congratulations." Ziva also wasn't meeting his eyes, and looked like she was sorry she'd confronted him.

"Thanks," he said with a whisper of a smile. _Isn't this what I wanted? __To get the upper hand?__To have something to lord over them?__ A job offered to me, and not them?__ If that's the case, why do I feel so rotten?_

Gibbs had been conferring with another team leader across the squad room; surely out of earshot. But when Tim, frustrated, noticed it was lunchtime and locked his computer, he looked up to see Gibbs staring at him…and this time, the stare was cold.

- - - - -

He waited a day, then another, until he was sure in his mind. On morning break he put on his coat and headed out into the January chill for a private cell phone conversation in the park. "Tobias? Tim McGee. Listen, I—I appreciate you going to bat for me and all, but…I think I'm going to have to pass on the job offer. I think I'll stay on here."

"You have good teammates already?"

"Yeah. The best."

The smile was evident in Fornell's tone. "You're a wise man, Tim. You know that there was no guarantee that you would get along any better with your new teammates at the FBI."

"I know. And I can't expect them to solve my problems for me. I need to do that myself, and work _with_ my team."

"Ah, kid; I woulda loved having you at the FBI. But I understand. You just go be the best you can be at NCIS."

Tim thanked him and hung up, and walked back into NCIS, smiling ruefully. He should do something nice for his team…take them out to lunch, maybe. Or even just be a better listener; a better friend. They'd like that.

Fornell made two phone calls. The first was to Lou Greco in HR. "Sorry, Lou," he said. "McGee just isn't going to work out. Yeah, he's mostly good, but he has a few, uh…personality defects. He would be wrong for us, sorry to say. Yeah, it is a shame. Goodbye." He'd crossed his fingers and rolled his eyes skyward as he said all this, hoping it would be enough to absolve him. He didn't want HR to come poking around after McGee again in 6 months, to see if he couldn't be persuaded.

The second phone call, at least, was honest. "Jethro! No, I'm not the Big Bad Wolf." He smiled, a trifle sadly. "Your boy has told me he wants to stay with you Navy boys. I'm not going to continue the chase…Yeah, me too. You look after him, Jethro. He shows real promise."

- END -


End file.
